15 hours
by Spyder2
Summary: How far is he willing to go to protect her Warning May offend


**15 hours**

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own Stargate SG-1; Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions do, and I give full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt), more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.

**Authors note:**  
**Warning -** Contains highly descriptive scenes of injuries & may offend some people; if you are easily offended by this then DO NOT READ!  
What happens when he makes the decision to save everyone at the cost of his own life.

* * *

The clock ticked over to 3:34am, bathing the silent room in a deep, almost blood red colour, as he awoke, remaining still until all his senses returned to him.

This would be the most difficult part of the mission, and undoubtedly the most painful, but it had to be done.  
He looked over at her, shifting his weight slightly, trying desperately not to find that damned squeaky spring, or all would be blown.

After five minutes of wriggling and manoeuvring, he finally managed to get out of the bed, and began his preparations.

But then something stopped him.

He stood at the foot at the bed, and looked down at the angelic figure lying there; her blonde hair splayed all over the pillow, all wrapped up in the covers. So peaceful, despite what she knew could come. And that was the reason he had to go.

They wouldn't let him go and do what was necessary, so it was down to him to go do it himself.

Even if it killed him in the process.

So long as she, and everyone else was safe once more, he knew that what he was about to do was right.

Moving as quickly as he could, he dressed, gathered some belongings into a small pack and left, leaving only a small note on the bedside table, kissing her forehead lightly, before he walked downstairs, out the front door for what would be the last time.

It took him a little over an hour to reach the entry point, but that was expected.  
A short stop over at a small motel, and a quick shower and shave before making his way up the windy mountain road, and then down through the forest on foot to the steel tunnel that would start his mission and end his career.

From this point, he was a marked man.

Slipping inside, taking time to ensure he set off no alarms, he made his way down the shaft nearly 30 floors before he stopped, arriving close to where he wanted to be.

His target was the armoury on level 32, but the shaft stopped here, so he was forced to make his way through the base, down two levels, avoiding the security camera's and the personnel still on base to the armoury, where he kitted up as best he could.

Quickly unpacking what he had brought with him, removing all the unnecessary items such as a shaver etc, he quickly repacked his gear into a military issue bergan, before stripping off, and donning a clean dry-suit, and a fresh set of battle dress, only pausing between layers to attach weapons or armour.

In the end, he had on two full layers of body armour, and an experimental ceramite vest, on which he carried his tactical vest, brimming with ammunition and grenades, a grabsack, carrying even more ammunition, and a 100lb bergan holding, 80lbs of which was explosives, ammunition and a spare gun, with 10lbs of survival kit.

The final 10lbs was his trump card, which he hoped he'd never have to use. Naquadria.

There was no way that he'd be able to sneak to the gate room now, but he didn't have to.

Removing a small PDA, he pressed two buttons, and the entire facility went dark.

He moved as fast as he could, up 4 flights of stairs, taking out two guards and three technicians as he went.

Quickly, he shut every blast door in the complex, before moving on to his main objective; the gate.

Searching the dialling computer, he found the address he was after, and began to dial it, ensuring that the coordinates would be wiped afterward, and that the iris remained open.

As the gate lit up, he knew that it was time to go. This was also reinforced by several angry Marines banging on the armoured door to his left.

He bolted like a rabbit, down the stairs, and out into the gate room, as a resounding bang came from the control room, as the entry door was blown open.

The gate still hadn't finished dialling, but he hoped that that fact would be the last thing on their minds.

Seconds turned to minutes, as he watched, with weapon aimed at the door, the gate complete its dialling sequence, just as the main blast door opened, as two armed men appeared at the door.

With two shots, they were both dead, but the blast door was still going up, and he couldn't afford to be seen, so he ran to the gate.

His boots pounded hard against the metal ramp, purely under the weight of what he was carrying, but he didn't even think twice. The adrenaline in his body had long since taken over and the combatant side of him was driving him on.

Bursting through the entryway, one of the Marines saw what was going to happen, and shot at him, but it was a moment too late. He went through the gate just as it shut down, and the base returned to normal.

It was almost 9 months later when he returned.

"Unscheduled off world activation" the PA system blared, and red lights strobed the base, as the gate's inner ring began to spin, and as usual, the Marines ran to their defensive positions.  
Spinning shut, the iris sealed off the gate, but as the wormhole formed, there was an error.

It opened.

Slowly at first, but then it just gave up and blossomed fully open.

Then silence.

Nothing moved, not for a minute, as the tension began to increase in the gate room and surrounding levels. Every man and woman on base went for whatever weapon lay about.

Then, the rippling started.

A single ripple in the event horizon at first, but followed by another a few seconds later, and another, and another after that.

Something was trying to come through, but for some reason, it was being resisted.

A minute passed, and still the gate was rippling, but nothing was happening.  
Frantically, technicians tried to work out why the iris wasn't closed, but it was in vain. Nothing they tried seemed to close it, short of actually going out there and closing it physically, which was impossible, because it was made of titanium.

Then, it happened.

A short buzz of static came over the radio, then silence again.

Eerie silence.

Nothing was showing up on the sensors, but something was keeping the wormhole stable.

Finally, he came through.

At first the Marines went to fire, but on inspection, they realised who it was, and decided to wait for the order.  
From their position in the dialling room, gasps of awe and shock came echoed as the figure took a single step forward.

The crunch that followed was audible, but it didn't deter him.

He just took one uneasy step at a time.

As he neared the end of the ramp, the extent of his injuries was clear.

Burn marks, cuts and holes peppered his uniform, highlighted further by a slight crimson stain in the camouflage pattern surrounding the wounds.  
But his face was the worst.

Bruised almost to beyond recognition, both eyes had swelled up, and a long cut ran from his chin to his ear.

He stopped, and coughed.

The severity of his injuries was immediately known, as a cloud of red mist flew from his lips and a trail of syrup like gel spurted from his mouth.

"Medical team to the gate room immediately, repeat, medical team to the gate room immediately!" the voice screamed, yet no one dared move.

Slowly unlinking his gun from his kit, he held it out to his left using his forearm and bicep - his left hand was bent at what could only be called an obscene angle; fully rotated 180 degrees around the wrist, with obvious broken bones, missing the tip of his little finger. A small gauze pad held its place, but that didn't look like it was going to last long.

The weapon hit the ramp with a clatter, and the figure took one defiant step forward, before his ankle crunched for the final time, and he flew straight over, being knocked unconscious from the impact.

By the time they got all his kit off, a small, but noticeable pool of blood had formed underneath his body, and the ramp would be forever stained in his blood.

Hoisting his body onto the gurney, they ran through the facility as fast as they could, stopping twice to shock his heart back to normal, but as he arrived, he was in worse shape than anyone imagined.

"I'd give him roughly 15 hours left sir" Dr Frasier said finally.  
"Thank you doctor" General Hammond said, looking down at the battered body of the finest soldiers ever to have lived, and at the small crowd of people standing around him, monitoring his condition, alongside his friends, all grieving at his sacrifice for the safety of them all.

Finally, she returned the letter to his open hand, and whispered to him "I love you".

A single tear ran down her cheek, and it was finally over.


End file.
